To Write Love On Her Arms
by The Skinny Love
Summary: Marilyn doesn't live, she just exists. She is but a ghost to those who pass her on Detroit's streets. She knows that there's a lot of ugly things about this world. But all she wants is for someone to write in on her arms the love she longs to taste. She's a broken heart that only one can see. That person is Jack Mercer. JackxOC hope you like it!
1. It's Only Pain

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: I've been wanting to do this story for a while, just haven't really gotten around to it. I hope you like it, but if you don't then sorry about that. **

**WARNING: This story is rated T for drug and alcohol use, sexual content, language, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. The following is not for young viewers. You have been warned, so enjoy! ;****)**

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To walk alone on the streets of Detroit at night, people would say you've got some balls. For a girl to walk alone on the streets of Detroit at night, they's say you have a death wish. But what the hell? Maybe I like living on the edge, maybe I like the danger, or maybe the dark streets are safer than being in my house. Whatever works for you.

A night in early November wasn't the best time for walking. Especially when you're wearing a short sleeved shirt and your skirt is as thin as paper. It worked well enough though.

There was a car up ahead, parked on the side of the road. Four or five men was standing around it. A warning sign to most, but a prayer answered to me. I kept going toward them, they finally noticed me. The five black men in sweat shirts and leather jackets watched me walk up to their car. I was a regular to them, that made me feel a little less afraid.

"Hey, girl. Looking for something?" One in wearing a black beanie said. When I got closer, he had a look of recognition on his lightly shadowed face.

"I might be. Got something for me?" I answered confidently.

"How much you got?" Another asked, stepping closer to me. He wore a black hoodie and grey sweats.

"Enough for an eighth. Wanna do business or what?" I shrugged. The young man in the beanie and the other in the hoodie exchanged glances. Even know I had bought from them before, I knew that you can never be sure when someone could turn on you.

The boy in the hoodie moved in front of me, he studied me for a moment. None of the others attempted to move as he motioned for me to walk with him. The deal was a success, I knew that already. The two of us walked up the street, maybe half a block. That's when he wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me to his side. He reached down my shirt, taking the wad of bills and replacing them with a small, plastic bag.

"Thanks." I said as we walked a few feet further.

"Yeah." The boy said as he slowed and began to turn. "Watch yourself now."

I heard the footsteps behind me fade with distance, soon the wind in my ear was all I could hear. Just knowing that I had my fix, it made the need for it even greater. The only shitty part about it was that it was too risky to light up a blunt in the middle of the street. I'd have to go home. Not something I was looking forward to.

If only I had somewhere to go, a friend's place maybe. That was the thing about me though. I had no friends. I didn't need any, and I didn't really want any either. I was perfectly fine just the way I was and I wanted it to stay that way.

**xXx**

I was just across the street from my house when I could hear the muffled sounds of yelling and fighting. I walked across the road slowly, trying to prepare myself to enter the Hell that I had lived with for most of my life. By the time I reached the porch, my heart was pounding inside my head.

"I work my fuckin' ass off all day long to come home to this?! A fuckin' junkie?!" My drunken father grabbed my mother's wrist and pointed at the needle scars in the bend of her arm. Mom jerked free of his grip.

"You think you're any better you damn drunk? You're nothing, but a fat, fucking pig!" My mother had barely finished her sentence before my dad's hand came down on her cheek.

I winced at the scene, quietly closing the front door behind me. My goal was to slowly go for the stairs up to my room.

"And where you been?" The alcohol made my dad's voice raspy and threatening. My whole body froze. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" He shouted at me when I didn't answer.

"Nowhere." I muttered meekly. My eyes watched the heavy-set, scruffy man that was my father. He took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand.

"Don't lie to me, bitch." He said quietly.

"I went for a walk." I answered honestly, but he still didn't seem satisfied.

"Yeah, I know where you been. You been whoring yourself out to every fucking cock you see. Ain't that right?" He growled, taking another drag. I was numb to the things he called me, that part was nearly bearable.

"No. I was just walking." I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear me.

"What was that?" My father raised his voice a little. "Come here, girl!"

I felt my stomach begin to twist itself as I slowly walked toward him. The smell of liquor was strong before I was even arms length from him. I couldn't bring myself to look him in the eye, I didn't like to know what he was thinking.

"You wanna lie to me some more?" His raspy voice throbbed inside my head, almost as loud as my heart beat.

I shook my head no at him, keeping my eyes focused on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, my father flicked the ash from his cigarette. I knew what was coming, but I didn't want to think about it. _It's only pain, _I said to myself.

"You're a fucking whore, everyone knows it. So, I don't wanna hear anymore of your damn lies, you hear me?!" My father shouted in my ear. I winced at the loud booming of his voice.

"Yes." I muttered.

"Yes, what?" He demanded.

"Yes, sir." I repeated.

"Good. Now, the next time you're on your back with a cock in ya, remember this." My father said as he took my wrist and pressed his cigarette onto my scarred skin.

A scream tore from my throat, but I knew it would only be worse if I jerked away. _It's only pain. It's only pain. It's only pain. _

"That's what's gonna be waiting for you next time I find out that you've been riding dick and choking on fucking cocks! You hear me, girl?!"

"Tom, you're hurting her." My mother screamed. My father released my arm and turned to my mom.

"What? You want some too?" He shouted at her.

I took my chance and darted for the stairs. I didn't stop until I was in my sorry excuse of a room. I pushed my dresser in front of my door after I locked it and threw myself down on the mattress that was laying in the middle of the room. This was the only place that I felt remotely safe. Well, safe enough to cry.

Tears mixed with mascara ran down my face. God, how I wish I had the fucking guts to just end it all. I had thought about it countless times, but I could never bring myself to do it. I always had some excuse. Either I didn't have a gun to do the fucking job, or I was afraid a razor blade would hurt too much. That was the ironic thing about me. I was terrified of pain, and yet I had lived with it my whole fucking life.

I sat up on my bed and took the bag out of my shirt. I stared at the weed in the bad for a moment, feeling of it under the plastic. Then, I reached under the mattress and pulled out a packet of rolling papers that was almost empty.

I always concentrated when rolling up a joint. It helped me take my mind off of everything else. I got the lighter out of my scratched up converse and lit end of the paper.

One. Long. Drag.

I loved the way it burned in my throat, the bitter taste it left in my mouth, the big white cloud it made when I breathed out.

**xXx**

I laid back on the bed, feeling completely numb. No more Amanda, no more of her drugs, her self-pity. No more Tom, no more of his alcohol, his yelling, his fucking cigarette burns, his hitting. No more pain that he'd ever brought me. This was my God. This was my Devil. This was my Heaven. This was my Hell.

There was always the easier, painless solution: run away. God knows I've thought that over plenty of times too. To run somewhere and never come back. Just the idea made me happy.

I had dreamed that I had someone who cared, someone who gave a shit. They would let me come to them and help me get away from this place. However, the reality was that I had no friends. Nobody cared. How long could I possibly last on the streets? Where would I go? _Where would I go?_

I raised my arm to look at the fresh burn. Just another page in the story that my body could tell. The early chapters were the scars and faded bruises. The newer chapters were made of vibrant purple splotches and fresh circular burns on my skin. That was Tom's doing. But the straight cuts on my wrist, that was my own destruction.

"Fuck it." I whispered under my breath as I rolled onto my side. Outside my window, I watched the night sky. The stars were covered by dark clouds, even they couldn't stand the sight of me.

"Fuck you too." I sighed before closing my eyes, allowing the distance sirens and cars lull me to sleep.


	2. Mercers

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: So, maybe the rating should have been changed to M, but there's nothing really too graphic . . . I don't think. Anyways, I hope you liked the first chapter. Also, there will be different Point Of View (POV) changes that come into into play in this chapter and others, so you just have to pay attention to them. Don't forget to leave me a review if you like the story. Thanks! **

**WARNING: This story is rated T for drug and alcohol use, sexual content, language, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. The following is not for young viewers. You have been warned, so enjoy! ;****)**

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My eyes fluttered open lazily at the brightening light peering into my window. I sat up before I could have the chance to roll over and go back to sleep. The thin layer of frost on the glass gave me a clear sign that it was morning. Hopefully, it was too early for Tom and Amanda to be awake. I listened for a moment, but there was only peaceful silence.

Feeling that it was safe enough to at least breathe, I got up off my mattress and looked into my cracked mirror on the wall. I looked like shit. My long, dark blonde hair was stringy and a tangled mess. The mascara on my eyes had faded all the way down to my chin. I smelled like weed and morning breath. _Shit, what was today? Fuck. Thursday._ My father didn't have to work today, so staying in this shit pile wasn't an option.

I checked my clock that was on the floor by the mattress, it was just past seven. I hurried myself to my dresser which was still blocking my door. I found the first long-sleeved shirt I saw and grabbed it. I made a quick change and then picked up a pair of ripped up skinny jeans from the floor. I forced a brush through my hair, taming it down to soft waves.

Once my work was done here, I began to move my dresser from in front of the door. I was extra careful not to make anymore noise than was necessary. I opened the door, which wiggled loosely on it's badly damaged hinges. I listened again for any sign of consciousness in the house. It was lifeless. I tiptoed into the bathroom and performed the usual, daily woman's routine. Then, I washed all the faded, creased make up from my face and reapplied some fresh mascara and dark grey eyeshadow.

I looked up at myself in the mirror, finding an ordinary girl staring back at me._ Whoever said that dress-up couldn't be fun?_

The air had grown colder since the night before, so I decided that it would be wise to wear a jacket. I saw a couple of kids my age heading for school as I walked down the sidewalk of my street. I had gotten my G.E.D. the day after I turned seventeen, so school was no longer a place to get a break from my mom and dad. I didn't mind that though, I never fit in there anyway.

I wondered what could possibly be on today's To Do List, hell there was so many options I hardly couldn't decide: walk, lay in the road, walk, fuck a stranger, walk, slit my wrists in an alley, or walk. Hell, the last two sounded tempting. A smoke would be nice, though I doubt I could find someone to hand one over. My throat was too dry for a cigarette anyway._ That convenience store was two . . . ? Three miles, was it?_ _Ah, fuck it. _I knew I'd get there eventually, so it really didn't matter.

**xXx**

Okay, so it was five miles to the damn store. At least it was open. I walked through the door, triggering that annoying bell that dings whenever you come in.

"Good morning." An old man greeted me from behind the cashier counter. I only nodded as I began to go through one of the aisles. I found a magazine and glanced through it, it was the same old, same old. Some famous person was pregnant, two were getting divorced, another had died from overdose. After flipping the pages of a third magazine, the store bell dinged.

My eyes curiously peered over the shelf in front of me to find two people walk in. It was a guy and a lady that was old enough to be his grandmother.

"Ah, Mrs. Mercer! Good morning to you!" The cheery cashier beamed at the woman.

"Hello." The lady smiled back.

"You too, Jack." The old man said to the younger of the two. The guy gave a nod and then followed his grandmother as she walked around. I sort of remembered that kid from school. He use to get into fights all the time.

I decided that it was time to get what I came in for and leave. I headed toward the cooler section of the store when the Mercer kid walked right out in front of me. I was quick enough to stop myself, our arms barely bumped. To me, that was just as bad as the two of us running smack-dab into each other.

"Oh." Jack took a step back, waiting for me to go first. I felt his eyes on me, sending my heart into a fluttering spasm and the tips of my fingers were shaking.

"Sorry. S-Sorry." I stuttered like a damn moron as I hurried past him. God, I hated that. I didn't like seeing people I knew, let alone crossing paths with them. Call me shy, I call it being socially dysfunctional.

I stopped at the soda cooler, taking in a breath and not daring to look to see if Mercer was watching in all of my awkwardness. I took out a Dr. Pepper from the cooler, I think, and rushed to the cashier.

"Would that be all for you, miss?" The cashier asked.

"Yep." I replied quickly, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. Just when I thought I was in the clear, Mrs. Mercer and Jack came up behind me to pay for their stuff. _Great._

"That'll be two, miss."

I reached down my shirt and into my bra, pulling out a single dollar bill and tossing it onto the counter.

"Two, miss." I heard the old man say.

"What?" I asked, focusing my attention on what he was saying.

"Two dollars." I could tell that the cashier was a bit irritated. I looked down at the dollar and searched my bra for more money, giving up empty handed. I knew that the damn Mercer kid was watching me, his grandmother too. I just wanted to leave.

"Um. Nevermind." I said as I started to leave.

"Wait, I'll get it." I heard Mrs. Mercer tell the cashier. My frantic eyes darted back to see her going through her purse.

"No, it's fine." I insisted, hoping she'd just leave me alone.

"No, dear. It's perfectly all right." The lady handed the old man a dollar and held out the bottle of soda to me.

This woman really wasn't going to make this easy for me. I wanted to tell the old hag to shove it, but was way too nice. _FUCK!_ _Oh well, whatever could get me out of here faster._ I stepped in front of her and she handed me the soda, giving me that sweet-old-woman smile.

"Thanks." I whispered to her, showing a hint of a crooked smile. Then, I walked out of the store, happy to leave.

I stopped on the sidewalk in front of the convenience store, allowing myself to breathe._ Damn!_ I had seen Mercer laying out of class to go behind the dumpster to smoke with his friends, on more than one occasion. After that scene, I knew it wasn't right to ask to bum for a smoke. Fuck, I really did want one though. Against my better judgement, I went and stood against the side of the store to wait for the Mercer's to come out.

Mrs. Mercer and Jack came outside just seconds later. I didn't have time to prepare myself.

"Excuse me." I began before I could even think of what to say. Jack and his grandmother turned to me, my stomach already felt tighter.

"Yes?" Mrs. Mercer waited. I fidgeted with one of my shirt sleeves as I licked my lips and frantically searched for words.

"Neither of you would have a spare smoke, would you?" I asked, surprisingly without stammering. The kid looked clueless when his grandmother looked at him, as if she expected him to answer me.

"Well, go on, Jack." Mrs. Mercer urged him. He turned to her, his blue eyes instantly widened. "Oh, go on. It's not some big secret." The woman added as he smirked at him out of the corner of her eye. I guessed from the awkwardness, that Jack hadn't shared his habit with her. I couldn't help smiling.

The Mercer kid reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter. He handed me the smoke that I gladly accepted and lit up the Zippo. I bent down to light the end of the stick and inhaled. I suddenly felt much better, my fingers weren't shaking so bad now.

"Thanks." I muttered to the boy before giving Mrs. Mercer a polite smile and heading down the street. God, I was glad that was over.

**[Jack's POV]**

"Now that's a sad sight." Mom whispered, pulling my attention away from the blonde girl walking down the road.

"How so?" I asked her curiously, as if I had no idea what she meant.

"That child spends more time out on the streets than she does at home. I see her walking all the time." Mom began to put the groceries in the car. She was only telling me something I already knew.

"Cool." Was all I said. My mom just gave me one of her famous Evelyn Mercer looks as she closed the trunk.

"You of all people know it's not cool, Jack. God only knows what kind of life she's living." Mom said, walking to the driver's side door. I walked to the other side of the car.

I remembered that girl in school, I knew her pretty well. Marilyn Byers. She'd slept with four of my friends by my Junior year, and hadn't even spoken a single word to me until just now. She was always wearing long-sleeved shirts and sweaters, even in the summer. She got strung out on drugs though, and quit coming to class.

"If you ask me, she needs a friend." I heard Mom say while I was opening my door.

I paused and looked at her, knowing exactly what she was getting at. She smiled at me, and I could only smile back.

"Really?" I laughed.

"Oh, go on. Just be careful and be home or call before dark." Mom insisted, finally getting into the car. I knew I wouldn't be able to argue, then again, I didn't really want to. I shut the passenger door and jogged to catch up with Marilyn before she was out of sight.


	3. High School Crush

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: I've been wanting to do this story for a while, just haven't really gotten around to it. I hope you like it, but if you don't then sorry about that. **

**WARNING: This story is rated T for drug and alcohol use, sexual content, language, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. The following is not for young viewers. You have been warned, so enjoy! ;****)**

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**[Jack's POV]**

I was trailing behind Marilyn, now at a walk. I wasn't sure if she'd heard me coming from a ways back, but she didn't show any sign of it.

"Hey." I finally called out to her. The girl slowed to a stop and I knew I'd gotten her attention for sure.

I stepped closer, keeping my hands in my coat pockets to keep them from shaking. I wasn't sure if it was the cold, or maybe I was just nervous. Marilyn turned around, her brows instantly arched with surprise.

"What are you doing?" She asked, taking a drag from the cigarette I gave her. By the sound of her tone, she was more confused than curious.

I wasn't sure what to say. One of my hands automatically raised to the back of my head and ruffled my brown hair. _As if that would help me at all._

"Um, I just thought I'd walk you to wherever you were going." I answered, trying hard not to stutter. I watched Marilyn's eyes narrow at me while she flicked her ashes onto the sidewalk.

"There's only one reason why a guy says something like that to me." She retorted with one of those 'pissed off' smirks that girls usually make whenever they're upset and act like nothings wrong.

"What?" I had an idea of what she was talking about. _She really didn't think that . . ._

"I'm not a sport fuck! What, you think that just because I screwed your damn friends that you're next in line?" Marilyn raised her voice and it echoed through the morning air.

I'd admit, Marilyn's words hurt a little. More than anything it made me feel sorry for her. She must have been through this situation before to think that every person that came up to her wanted sex. I didn't know the girl very well, but I did know that she never came out of her shyness bubble unless she was mad, or just too doped up to care.

"No. Not every guy that looks at you wants to fuck you, Marilyn."

The words were out before I could catch myself. They didn't come out right, but it was too late. She'd already taken what I'd blurted out to heart. Her eyes dropped to the ground as she took another drag from the much shorter cigarette.

"Wait. That's not what I meant." I sighed, trying to crawl out from the bus I'd just threw myself under. "I just don't want you to think that's what I want, not that I wouldn't want to or anything or . . . Fuck."

I winced at the embarrassment I'd just brought on myself. Though I felt less guilty about what I'd said when I heard the girl in front of me stifle a giggle.

**~ flashback ~**

I heard Marilyn's laughing over the loud music coming from the stereo system. I found the blonde girl across the living room, sitting on the couch arm surrounded my a group of guys. My friend at the time, Deon, had his arm draped loosely over her shoulder.

As her green eyes glanced up to meet mine, I looked away. I finished off what little of the alcohol that was left in the plastic cup I was holding. What was suppose to be just a few friends, turned into a skirt-chasing party, like always. Still, even with the loud music and party chatter, I could hear Marilyn's voice over everything else.

_God, Mom would kill me if she knew where I was. _I thought that it might be a good idea to go on home before I was too drunk to walk.

"Ay, Jack. Come here, man!" Deon called to me from the other side of the room.

I looked back over to the group of guys who were watching my sophomore-year crush snort her third line of coke. Deon nodded for me to come over, he wore that familiar, trouble-making smile of his. Despite the smart decision to leave, I went on over anyways. Once the cheers from Marilyn's fans had died down, Deon threw his dark-skinned arm around my neck spoke into my ear.

"You wanna get you some?" He asked, nodding toward the blonde girl. She was already doped out of mind, and struggling to keep her balance as she stood up. Again, our eyes met. She gave me a teasing glance.

"I gotta get the fuck home before I have a search party sent out after me." I said, ready to come up with any excuse to leave.

"You sure 'bout dat? 'Cause I know you been sweet on dat girl. An' right now, she's ready for a trip to dick city." Deon laughed. I did the same, just to keep my friend's words from bothering me. It didn't work though.

"Nah. I really need to be heading out." I faked a smile.

Deon shrugged at my final answer and went to Marilyn. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and crashed her lips onto his. I bit my lip and looked away. I heard the two of them whispering to each other before my friend turned back to me.

"A'ight, man. You had 'ya chance, bro." Deon shrugged again, holding Marilyn by the waist to keep her standing. He led the girl towards the stairs, she was either stumbling or dragging her feet over every step. Deon was right, I'd had my chance and passed it up. Hell, I shouldn't have to get a girl drugged nearly to the point of unconsciousness just to get her to sleep with me.

**~ end of flashback ~**

"Don't you have somewhere to be, anyway?" Marilyn asked, pulling me out of the memory. I blinked, having to repeat her question in my head before I could give her an answer.

"Nope."

Her head cocked slightly to the side curiously.

"You dropped out?" She guessed, taking one last hit of the cigarette before tossing it into the road.

"No, I graduated this past year." I corrected her. I guess she'd forgotten that I was a grade above her. She quit coming to school before my senior year ended.

Marilyn nodded back as a reply. I watched her scoot her shoes on the pavement shyly. I thought I would have grown out of the silly, high-school-crush phase. However, the fluttering in my stomach proved otherwise. Marilyn was skinnier than I remembered, but still just as pretty.

"So, you ain't got shit to do, I ain't got shit to do. Wanna go for a walk?" The girl hinted a smile and I beamed one right back to her.

I never would have expected for her to give me the time of day. It was all still just beginning to register.


	4. Streets

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: I've been wanting to do this story for a while, just haven't really gotten around to it. I hope you like it, but if you don't then sorry about that. **

**WARNING: This story is rated T for drug and alcohol use, sexual content, language, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. The following is not for young viewers. You have been warned, so enjoy! ;****)**

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**[Marilyn's POV]**

As I walked down the road which Jack to the side of me, it made me feel different. Even if we weren't talking, I felt less alone. It reminded me of the times when I'd meet up with his friends. He'd usually be there, but we acted as if we never even noticed each other. I always assumed that he thought I was just some white trash junkie. Maybe that's why he hadn't ever attempted to screw me. God knows I wouldn't have said no.

"So, your grandmother is nice." I said casually, hoping to start a conversation and distract myself.

"Grandmother?" Jack repeated. The little laugh he added at the end made it seem like I had been living under a rock somewhere. "Evelyn's my mom." He corrected.

I nodded, showing him that I understood. Mrs. Mercer seemed a little old to be his mother, she must have had him in her mid forties then.

"I was adopted." Jack added quietly, as if I had just said everything I was thinking out loud.

He looked at him, sensing that I had heard only a little piece of the story. He returned a crooked smile. That was a clear sign to me that I probably wouldn't want to bring up that subject again.

_Why in the fuck was he even here?_ Jack Mercer had never shown a single interest in me in high school, so what had made things change all of a sudden? I knew that it wasn't any of that common courtesy bullshit he'd given me. It's not that I didn't him there, because I did. I just couldn't understand why he gave a shit now.

"So, really?" I started, keeping my head low. "Why are you here?" I looked up at the street in front of me to keep from peeking over at Jack.

"I just wanted to walk." The boy answered causally.

"Well, you can hardly say we're just friends catching up." I responded a little faster than I should have. I knew there had to be a reason behind it. If it wasn't sex that Jack wanted, what was it?

"Is there anything wrong with wanting to get to know someone?" Jack muttered as he put a cigarette to his lips and lit it. He took a short hit and then handed it to me. I hesitated before taking the smoke. I felt myself getting nervous all over again, just because my lips were now where his had been.

"Why do you want to get know me?" I questioned, exhaling a transparent cloud of smoke and handing the cigarette back.

Jack suddenly moved in front of me and stopped. I was forced to do the same. I looked at him questioningly, also feeling that we were standing way too close together. His lips half curled into a little smile as he seemed to be studying me.

"Because you look lonely. I've seen you walking out here all by yourself. I don't get it." It was like he was demanding an answer from me, as if it was any of his business.

"Why does it matter to you?"

"Because all it takes is one lunatic, ONE, to see you by yourself. Let's say he grabs you, that's it. You're gone." Jack said in a dead serious tone, like he was trying to scare me into reality. The truth of it was that I sometimes hoped for that to happen. After the reaction I had just gotten from Jack, I decided that it would be best if I didn't mention it.

I could just be fooling myself, but it almost sounded like Jack cared. In his eyes, I noticed the look of dread, as if it he was bothered by the idea of someone snatching me up. It was a little overwhelming, yet comforting at the same time. Of all the people who just might give a shit, Jack Mercer was that person? The possibility sent my stomach into a twisting spasm. It felt like . . . _Oh God, it was._

I quickly turned to the side, feeling the sickness rise up in my throat. I had nothing in my stomach, so I was forced to dry heave twice before I finally vomited a clear liquid onto the side of the road. I stayed leaned over, not daring to look at Jack who probably had a disgusted look on his face. I was surprised to feel a warm hand gently rubbing circular motions on my back while another pulled blonde strands of hair out of my face.

"You okay?" Jack's voice was much softer, I even sensed a hint of concern. I nodded, wincing at the bitter taste in my mouth.

I raised back up, feeling the boy's hand move away. My first reaction was to take a drink of the half-empty Dr. Pepper to help rid the taste of puke. Then, Jack offered the cigarette back to me. I gladly accepted it, taking a long drag. The burn of the smoke and nicotine helped too.

"You sure you're okay?" Jack asked again.

"Yeah." I answered in a whisper.

My shaking fingers brought the cigarette back to my lips and I sucked the smoke down my throat until it hurt. I exhaled and caught a small head rush. The feeling wasn't as good as a high from a joint though, and just thinking about it made me want one._ Shit! The bag was in my room._ It was still kind of early, maybe Tom hadn't woken up yet.

I wasn't about to let Jack follow me to my house. I got a strange, unsettling feeling knowing that I was going to part ways with him here. Maybe it was the constant feeling of loneliness that caused it, or maybe I just liked being around Jack. I'd rather not know the answer.

"I need to go home." I said bluntly.

Jack immediately responded with a confused expression on his face.

"Do you want me to go with you? I can make sure you get there okay." He asked as if he was trying to find a reason to keep walking with me. As much as I wanted him to come with me, I knew that it was not a good idea and that reminder was enough for me to refuse.

"No, I just have to go." I answered quickly. I was afraid that I might give in if I hesitated.

I noticed the sense of unhappiness that Jack held in his blue eyes. _God, this sucked._

"Well, it was fun hanging out. Maybe we'll do it again sometime if we run into each other." I muttered, hoping to make the situation a little better. It didn't seem to help me in the least.

"Yeah, sure." Jack nodded. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and gave me one. "Here's one for the road."

I accepted the cigarette with a polite smile and put it to my lips as he held out his Zippo to offer a light. After taking a drag, I decided that I needed to hurry.

"See ya." Was the last words I said to Jack Mercer as I headed across the road in a slow jog. I didn't look back, to do so would just make it worse.

When I reached the other side of the street, I kept up the pace of a fast walk, trying to get out of Jack's sight as quickly as possible. The lonely feeling was already beginning to crawl into my stomach. It was building up my wall again and turning me back into that white trash girl that didn't care.

I made sure to savor every hit that I took from the smoke, not sure when I would have another. All thoughts of Jack Mercer was gone and replaced with the goal to get up to my room and light up a joint. Everything would be okay then. I wouldn't have to think of Jack, or anything else. Everything would be okay.


	5. Who Cares? Not I

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: Sorry that I haven't updated this story in a while, it's my Senior Year in high school so I've been pretty busy. **

**WARNING: This chapter is rated M for brutal sexual violence, reader's discretion is HIGHLY advised. This chapter is not meant for young or immature readers. Thank you guys for taking the time to prepare yourselves. I hope you enjoy!;)  
**

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**[Marilyn's POV]**

It was almost ten when I made it to the house. I paused at my doorstep, listening for the sounds of yelling or any sign of life really. I waited for noise that never came, so I decided that it was safe enough to open the door and step inside. The door and it's frame creaked and moaned as if it was staying '_stop, I'm still hurting'_. Even the damn house wasn't save from Tom's anger. It was amazing that either of us were still standing.

I tiptoed up the stairs and went straight to my room, a route that I am surprised had not been worn into the flooring by now. I quietly closed the door, slightly pulling my dresser half way in front of it. Just in case.

I didn't have to look around my mattress long before I found the bag that held my sanctuary. I sat down criss-cross on the bed made mostly of thin fabric and metal springs as I grabbed one of the remaining rolling papers and went to work. I made sure to make it a small joint, I had to make this bag last as long as I could.

Out of desperate need for my fix, I inhaled a little too much and almost went into a coughing fit. I was quick to save myself from the risk of Tom hearing me by grabbing my pillow and burying my face into it as I wheezed like a dying animal. After my episode, I sat stiffly and waited to hear angry stomps coming down the hall. When the silence continued, only then did I dare to let out the breath I was holding. _Dammit, that was close!_ It was too risky to stay here, even if I hadn't done anything that could piss off Tom, he'd find a reason. He always has before.

I finished the joint before I stuffed the plastic bag into my bra as well as the rolling papers and got up to remove the barricade from my door. I crept down the stairs when I heard a sound that, in my home, startled me to the point that I felt my pulse increase rapidly; the closing of the refrigerator. Holding my breath, I gathered up enough courage to peek around the staircase into the kitchen to see Amanda taking a bottle of cheap vodka out of the freezer. I sighed quietly with relief and walked into the kitchen where I stood next to my mother. Her idea of filling the awkward silence was to tip the bottle up at her lips and take a swig before casually offering it to me. My brow made a slight twitch before I accepted the dark blue bottle and took a sip of the bitter liquor. I set the vodka down on the cluttered counter, licking the remains of the alcohol from from my bottom lip.

One thing I could say about Amanda was that she was not nearly as harsh as Tom. She'd probably share her alcohol and drug stashes with me more often if she wasn't afraid of her shitty husband finding out about it. Still, that only confirmed how irresponsible of a mother she was. She gave me my first taste of beer when I was eleven because I was thirsty and that was the only thing in the house to drink besides the filthy tap water that came from our sinks.

"He'll be up soon. If you're going to disappear for the day, you need to get going." The blonde woman said plainly. Her grey eyes that were deeply suck back into her head held no feeling except the desire to see a bottle of Oxys. I gave her a slight nod and left the house without saying anything else to her.

**xXx**

My schedule went as planned. I walked around for at least two hours, going up and down streets that I could navigate through blindfolded. I went behind the local supermarket and sat on the dumpster for a while. That part didn't work out too well though, it gave me time to think about stuff. Jack popped into my head multiple times. Once I realized that I couldn't get him out of my head, I hopped off the smelly garbage dump and walked some more. The good thing about walking was that I could keep myself busy just thinking about where to go. Even then, Jack Mercer annoyed me. For some reason, I couldn't shake the memories from this morning. It was all too much for me: Jack Mercer, the walk, what was said, what wasn't said, and mainly what went on when we were running with the same crowd.

Back when I was in school, I was pretty popular with that crowd, at least the part that was guys. Wherever there was a party with alcohol and drugs, you'd find me there. I was the girl that never cared, as long as I was drunk and doped up enough. There wasn't a guy I wouldn't fuck and there wasn't a guy that wouldn't fuck me. Well, there was one. Jack Mercer, at least as far as I knew. For some reason, it always seemed awkward when we were around each other when I could remember. We would avoid verbal communication every time, the only nonverbal contact that we had was those embarrassing moments when we would glance at one another at the same time. _Okay, I'll admit that Jack Mercer was highly attractive and that I wouldn't have minded if he'd asked for sex._ The problem was that he never did, and after several occasions of getting plastered and him not even speaking a word to me I decided that he wasn't interested. I suppose that was why I flipped out on him this morning. _Hell, could anyone blame me? The guy ignored me when we actually ran around together, and then sees me walking the street today of all days and decides to follow me around? Complete and utter bullshit! _It made no sense. To be frank, it gave me a headache.

_That's it! I need a drink!_ That little sip of vodka served me no justice earlier. There were a few people that I had still remained in contact with after dropping out of school, some that lived in the area. _Let's see, there was Aaron, but he was probably working. There was Deon, but I was not on speaking terms with him. Wait! Reese just lived a short walk from here._ Reese Wilson was the guy that always had alcohol and he probably had some now. Of course, there would probably be a fee for me just showing up and asked to have a drink. That's what I was for, though.

Reese only lived less than five minutes away and before another thought of Jack Mercer could pop into my head, I was already at the front door. I knocked on the beige painted door, excitedly waiting for a response. The house was average on my standards: white paneling, one floor, two bedrooms and one bathroom, and cleaned often. There were a couple of times that I wished I had been raised here.

"Come in." Were the first words that anyone would hear after knocking on this door. Biting my lip, I took the door knob and gentle turned it so that it opened carefully.

**xXx**

I woke up to Reese's voice and his bedroom light turning on.

"Hey, my lady is gonna be home in a few minutes. You need to get gone." His words had a slight slur and were dragged out as he helped me sit up in his bed.

I tried to shake myself awake and throw on my shirt and pants at the same time.

"Fuck, what time is it?" I asked, hoping for the room to stop spinning.

"It's ten minutes til twelve. Come on, get up!" Reese answered impatiently. His pale, tattooed body stood by his bedroom door waiting for me to leave.

I got up to button and zip up my jeans, then I hurried out of the room. Reese followed me to his front door, carrying the bottle of Hurricane malt liquor that we had shared. Once I was on the concrete porch, he gave me the bottle which still had at least eight or nine shots left.

"Here, my girl would kill me if she saw this. I'll see ya around." Was all Reese said before closing the door.

Once again, I was alone. I walked into the night carrying the malt liquor under my folded arms. It was much colder now that the sun had set, it would have made sense to wear a jacket when I'd thought about it. Still, the buzz that I had left kept the shivers away.

I couldn't go home tonight, not with the smell of alcohol fresh on my breath. During these situations, I would usually welcome a park bench as my bed. Unfortunately, police made rounds around the parks and playgrounds more often.

_Oh shit!_ I suddenly remembered my bag of weed and frantically checked my bra. I panicked when I found that it was empty, recalling clearly that I didn't share any of it with Reese. I sighed happily when I patted my front pockets and founds that I'd stashed it there. _That was close._ If I'd left my weed at Reese's place, I wouldn't have cared if his girlfriend was home, I'd have gone back to get it. If that would have been the case, a fight would have been inevitable. It wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten into a scrap with another girl for fooling around with their boyfriend. If the guy wanted it, that was my only interest. It was never questioned whether or not they had a girlfriend, they should be responsible enough not to cheat. However, if they did have someone else, it wasn't my problem.

Anyhow, I had my weed and that was all that mattered to me. If I wasn't drunk at the moment, I'd be nervous. I tried to avoid this part of town at night, the gang activity was a little higher and the cops were here more often than where I made my usual night walks. _Looks like I'll just have to be careful._ I mentally laughed at the thought. When was I ever careful?

I did make an effort to drink the remaining liquor quickly. It wouldn't be in my favor if the cops found me drunk and made a call to my parents. I didn't even want to think about what Tom might do to me after picking me up from jail the next morning. That had happened once, the welts and bruises from his belt had long disappeared, but my last two fingers on my left hand gained some permanent nerve damaged after he broke them.

I threw the glass bottle into an empty lot and continued around the corner. There was a constant noise whether it was barking dogs or the squealing tires from a car somewhere up the street. Thankfully, it was mostly dogs.

The alcohol that was left took little to no time to take effect. My vision was more fuzzy and it took an even greater effort to walk in a remotely straight line down the sidewalk.

The sound of people talking sent a surge of alarm through my body, quickly making me feel more alert. I noticed that I was nearing a small playground where I could count five or six guys standing around or sitting on the rusty monkey bars. _Fuck!_ A sense of fear made the effects of the alcohol fade . . . or maybe they increased. I was too worried about the group of young men to think about anything else. At least half were white, the half African-American, not that it really mattered . The color of skin wasn't going to determine if they were going to cause me harm or not. That was a flaw of character that I found in most people.

I remained at a normal pace, not wanting to bring any attention to myself. Hopefully, they were just kids trying to piss their parents off by staying out late. _Hopefully._

I was coming towards the corner streetlight, nearly past them when I heard a flirty whistle. It was then that I knew I was screwed, in all sense of the word. _Fuck! FUCK!_

"Hey girl, come here." One of them called out to me. I kept walking, though I knew there was no point. I just didn't want to let them know that I was going to give up so easily. At least this way, there was still a 20% chance that they would let me be.

Once I watched them leave the monkey bars, I already knew what was going to happen. Only then, did I stop and wait for them to approach me. I drowned out their cocky laughs and whispers to mentally prepare myself for what was going to happen. _It's only pain._

"Whatya doin out here all by yourself, girlie?" One of them said arrogantly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face and tracing the outline of my breast through my shirt. I kept my eyes to the ground, wishing that I would have kept that glass bottle with me. I knew that if I fought back, I'd only make it worse on myself so I decided that it was a good thing that I'd threw the bottle away earlier.

The men - which were few years older than me, a couple of them might have been a little older - continued making their disgusting comments and running their hands over me. They had made a circle around me and were gradually drawing me closer towards the playground where it was safe from the streetlights. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Dammit. _I mentally cursed myself, wishing that I was more drunk. That would have made it a little easier.

Before I had been herded into the darkness, they were already pulling at my shirt and reaching into it. Then, one of them leaned in and licked my jawline and bit at my neck several times. One was grinding against my backside and his hands were feeling up my shirt. That only lasted for a few seconds until another began tugging at the shirt. I heard the fabric rip a couple of times before it was pulled over my head. From there, they went from a group of overly friendly, horny boys to a pack of hungry wolves.

I was picked up and thrown to the ground, and one of them jumped on top of me. At some point, my bra was gone and I felt tugging at my jeans until they were literally ripped off. Several mouths covered me, some were sucking, others were biting me. I kept my eyes closed, repeating the same sentence over and over in my head. _It's only pain. It's only pain. It's only - FUCK! _My first though was that I was being ripped in half as one of them started to fuck me. I wasn't anywhere close to a virgin so which ever guy that is was had to be well-equipt. I felt myself burning between my legs and a thin trickling line of blood. _Shit! It's only pain! It's only pain!_ If only those words would justify the burning and the biting and the pinching.

_"Because all it takes is for one lunatic . . . One . . . to see you by yourself. That's it."_ Those words from Jack Mercer found their way into my mind. If this was the first time that a bunch of guys had saw me and forced themselves on me, then I might have said that Jack had jinxed me. This wasn't the first, but the third time I can remember. I even wondered if I'd be here now if I hadn't been so eager to get away from Mercer today. I probably would because that was the kind of luck I had.

The first and second guy had fucked me and got off inside of me, one even pissed all over me. The third was half way through his fun when a police siren suddenly went off as the car came to a screeching halt by the playground. The men surrounding me quickly jumped to their feet, the one who was on top of me at the moment jumped up and kicked the shit of my head as he zipped his pants up and ran off with his buddies. A flashlight landed on me and sent panic though my body. I struggled to my feet, pulling up my jeans that were nearly ripped apart, I grabbed my shirt that was laying in the damp grass and I took off. I went in a different direction than the guys that had just raped me, knowing that the cops would pursue them first.

I ran as fast as I could, holding onto the waist of my jeans so that they wouldn't fall off. The burning that was between my legs increased as I was in no shape to be sprinting down the street. I didn't care though, I just wanted to be as far away from police as possible. I had to get somewhere and lay low at least until morning. Cops would probably be searching for me so that they could 'help' me, I wanted to avoid them at all cost.

Home was the first option to rule out. After everything that just happened, I couldn't handle Tom. _Fuck! Where the hell was I suppose to fucking go?__!_ The moment the question crossed my mind, an answer followed. _Would Jack be awake?_ The thought made me come to an abrupt stop, I almost tripped over my feet in doing so. It was wrong on so many levels. What would Jack Mercer think of me coming to his door at whatever time it was? _Since when did I care what he thought?_ What would his mother think?_ Again, why does that matter?_ I could just imagine the look on Jack's face knowing that he had warned me. He'd probably laugh in my face. _For the last damn time, who the fuck_ _cares?! _Obviously, arguing with myself would not do me justice. My options were limited, so it looked like the Mercer house was about to get a very strange and rude awakening . . . if anyone would even answer the door for me.

I'd walked through the Mercer's neighborhood once or twice, I was sure that I could figure out how to get there still. Part of me still wanted to say that Jack had jinxed me in saying what he had this morning. _No point in worrying about that shit now, it's done and over with._ Sighing, I finally threw on my filthy, ripped shirt and tried to find my way to the neighborhood where the Mercers lived.

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**I really hope you guys like this chapter. It was really emotional for me to write and I can't wait for the next chapter to be ready. Thanks guys!**


	6. One Crazy Night

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything, except for my OC.**

**Author's Note: I am so excited for this chapter! I found the last one to be pretty emotional for me even though I was the one writing it. I hope you're all excited to see what happens next because I know I am. **

**WARNING: This story is rated T for drug and alcohol use, sexual content, language, physical abuse, and sexual abuse. The following is not for young viewers. You have been warned, so enjoy! ;****)**

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**[Jack's POV]**

Normally, I'd be asleep by midnight, sometimes earlier than that. Here it was going on three in the morning and I was still up and plucking lazily at the strings on my guitar. How could I sleep when today was the first time that I'd had a conversation with the girl who I'd known for almost two years? I use to have dreams about her for a good week just by accidentally making eye contact with her. I didn't want to know how long she'd be haunting me in my subconsciousness after a half hour of walking with her and actually speaking to her. _God, today could have gone better._

I had confirmed that Marilyn obviously wasn't interested in giving me the time of day since she was so eager to run off this morning. I guess that's why we never progressed past the awkward glances during high school. Mom was pretty shocked when I came home at noon instead of staying out until it was almost dark like she'd expected. She had plenty of questions that I answered with a simple 'yes ma'am, no ma'am, or she had something else to do'. Then, she went on for a good hour talking about how sorry she felt for Marilyn and all that sweet, old lady talk.

I was happy when I got the chance to escape to my room. I didn't have to hear anything else about Marilyn Byers, the girl who got away. It sounds cliché, I know, but hell it was the truth. I'd never had any trouble with girls, most times I never even had to try.

I was interrupted from my long train of thought by a frantic, yet soft knocking at the front door. It surprised me. It was usually the Jehovah's Witnesses that came by randomly, but I suspected that they had crawled off to their underground lair by now. In this type of neighborhood, a knocking at this time of night probably wasn't safe to answer without a ball bat or a gun in your hand.

I quietly laid the guitar down and grabbed the ball bat next to my bed as I got up and walking into the living room. I waited for a second group of knocking. It came, just the same as the first. Soft and quick. I tip-toed to the front door, taking a deep breath before unlocking the dead bolt and quickly pulling the door toward me. Shock froze me the instant I saw the blonde girl at my doorstep.

Marilyn Byers stood inside the screened in foyer, staring at me like a deer in headlights. She seemed surprised that anyone answered the door. Her hair was a wavy mess, her face was littered with scrapes and a cut underneath a black eye, her shirt was covered with rips and dirt. She was holding on to her jeans that looked like they'd been torn off and she smelled like . . . like piss. It only took a second to realize that something was wrong.

"Marilyn, what the hell happened?" My words came out as a sort of growl. I was suddenly so angry and worked up that my body was trembling.

"Can I come in?" Marilyn's voice was raspy and broken as if she was about to burst into tears. _God, don't cry!_ If I saw her cry, I would have to wake up Mom and tell her I loved her and was about to kill someone.

I set the bat against the wall and took Marilyn's arm, pulling her inside. I closed and locked the door and turned to look at the girl I'd never thought would come to my doorstep at this time of night. The more I looked at the scraped on her face and the rips and tears on her clothes, the more my anger boiled in my stomach. I didn't have time to say or ask anything when she threw herself into my chest. It was shocking to me that Marilyn could ever react this way, especially with me.

This wasn't at all how it looked in the movies, the man and woman suddenly melting into each others arms. My head was spinning with assumptions and the smell of urine was definitely a mood killer. _What the fuck happened to her?_ I heard the soft sound of her sobs, which made the anger even harder to control. Marilyn never cried, at least when I saw her. Once, she fell off a second story balcony at a friend's party, she just got back up and shook it off and continued partying. I gently wrapped my arms around the girl to help damped the awkwardness and it helped to keep my arms from shaking as quickly as she threw herself into me, Marilyn pulled away as if she was realizing what she was doing.

"Shit." Was all she said as she went for the door. I reacted fast, grabbing her wrist to stop her. I heard her suck in a sharp breath before her bright green eyes locked on mine.

"Don't go." I pleaded quietly, hoping that she wouldn't run away from me for the second time today. She seemed very tempted to ignore my desperate plea and I was afraid that she'd be gone again. "Marilyn, please don't leave." _Son of a bitch, could I sound any more desperate?!_

After another minute of thinking about her options, Marilyn stepped away from the door and also gently pulled her wrist from my hand. I let out the breath I was holding while she was deciding. Seeing Marilyn this way was disturbing, I didn't understand how someone could this. One thing was for sure, I didn't want her to leave. All of this had happened in the time that I wasn't with her, I didn't want to risk her leaving again and having something worse happen . . . if 'worse' was possible.

"What happened?" I asked again.

The girl closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and simply shook her head. If that was the only answer I was going to get for now, I'd have to live with it.

"I'll call the police. Do you want me to call som-"

"No! Don't call the cops! Please, Jack! Promise me you won't." Marilyn begged, her hand was now gripping my grey t-shirt and her eyes were wide with fear. I swallowed hard, trying to understand why she didn't want me to call the police. Obviously someone had done this to her, I couldn't figure out why she didn't want the police involved. _I was offering her help, I thought that was what she wanted? Why else would she have showed up at my door this late?_ Then, I thought about the smell of alcohol on her breath, that may have had something to do with it. To me, it seemed that having this reported would be more important than possible underage drinking charges. _Oh well . . ._

"Okay." I sighed and nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from hers.

She looked so miserable standing in my living room in her tattered clothes with that awful smell. The least I could do was offer her a shower and some of my clothes. Just the mental image of Marilyn Byers in my clothes sent a shiver through my body. _Geez, Jackie, calm down. _Sounds like something Bobby would say.

"Come on, you need a shower." I said quietly. I took Marilyn's hand and led her into the bathroom. I turned the knobs and turned on the shower head. "I'll go get you something to change into. Be right back."

**[Marilyn's POV]**

Jack left the bathroom and I stepped over to the sink where I looked in the mirror. I was embarrassed and humiliated by what I saw. My eye was already black and had a cut underneath it from where one of those bastards kicked me. My hair looked like I'd stuck my finger into a light socket, and I couldn't even describe what I smelled like. I felt ashamed to show up at Jack's door like this. I was surprised he even let me inside.

"My clothes are gonna be kinda big, but I didn't think you would like anything my mom had in her closet." Jack said with a forced smile as he laid a white t-shirt and some baggy pajama pants on the back of the toilet for me.

"Thanks." I whispered shyly.

Jack continued to look over my clothes and my body. I felt that self-conscious pang worsen. He was probably hoping that I would get clean and leave as soon as possible. In an effort to distract myself from my thoughts and the awkward silence that was beginning, I turned away from Jack and began to pull my ripped shirt over my head. The sore muscles in my sides and my back instantly protested. I stopped and hissed at the pain, realizing that I must have been kicked quiet a few times. I tried to lift my shirt up again, making it just an inch above my belly button before I was trembling with pain. _God, I hope its not as bad as it feels.  
_

"Here." I heard Jack's soft voice as he walked over to me from the door.

His warm hands grazed the skin on my back and my side as he carefully pulled my shirt up and over my head. The cool air hit my bare skin and I shivered as the goose bumps appeared on my arms and shoulders. Bashfully, I crossed my arms over my chest to hide myself.

"Son of a bitch." Jack hissed quietly under his breath. I looked to where his eyes were to see a purple and blue bruise on my side where my rib cage was. There, the skin seemed to slightly cave in where some of my rib bones should have curved. How I was able to walk all the way here surprised me._  
_

Looking back up at Jack, his eyes were wide and his jaw was clenched. I noticed that his hands were shaking by his sides._ I'd hate to be on the receiving end of his anger._

"It doesn't hurt." I lied pathetically. Jack only blinked.

"Your ribs are broken." He seemed to struggle with keeping himself under control and his voice quiet.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, I lowered my gaze to the floor. I finally let go of the waist on my jeans which slumped half way to my knees where the rip stopped. I used my feet to pull myself out of the torn legs and carefully push them to the side. It was then that I realized how much I had bled from the incident that occurred barely an hour ago. There was a very clear line of now dried blood that ran all the way to my ankles and my underwear were covered with a dark red stain.

Jack took a single glance and muffled a growl in his throat as he quickly left the bathroom. I heard him standing outside of the door, his breath was heavy as if he'd just ran a marathon. He made another growl deep in his throat and paced around for a minute, trying to calm himself down. Part of me wished that I hadn't come here and brought his on Jack Mercer. It wasn't his problem.

I took this time to take off my ruined underwear and step into the bathtub. I pulled the plain, beige shower curtain half way around the tub and sat down. It made my side sting, but it felt nice to be off my feet. The water was hot, but not to the point that it was blistering my skin. I brought my knees to my chest and curled my arms between my legs and my stomach. This position was actually comfortable and I was much too tired to move.

Finally, Jack returned seeming to have his anger under better control. Still, his jaw clenched tightly and he leaned against the door frame like he was trying to hold himself steady. I was surprised that he had not left me to my privacy already. It wasn't like he was in here to be a perv. It was almost like he was afraid I was going to disappear.

I watched the pink water run off my legs and down into the drain thoughtfully. My body was the only evidence that any of it had been real, my mind had trained itself to think of it as a dream. I should have been angry and devastated, like a normal person. My only worries were about going home tomorrow after being out all night. Surely, Tom had already noticed that I was gone and would be until morning. I wasn't looking forward to seeing him.

My eyes went to Jack who slowly stepped over to the bathtub and knelt at the side. His blue eyes were saddened, watching me. I was anxious to know what he thought of me, though I normally wouldn't care. Clearly, he was upset about my appearance, that showed that he did care somewhat. I didn't expect for him to show any more than common courtesy.

"So, are you going to say 'I told you so' now?" I asked casually, hoping to lift this heavy, tense feeling.

"No." He began, his tone dead serious. "I don't know why you think this is at all funny. It's not."

I bit my lip and rested my chin on my knees. I never said that I found my situation to be amusing, I just had a different way of handling it. There was no point in being angry, it was over and there was nothing I could do about that. I'd already accepted that. My tears were dried up and it was time to move on.

"After we get you cleaned up, you can have my bed." Jack added as he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and gathered a small portion in his hands and started to lather my blonde tangles. I wasn't used to someone actually trying to take care of me, so I felt strange having the Mercer boy wash my hair. I was even more affected by what he'd said. I honestly hadn't expected for him to welcome me into his house so quickly.

I stayed quiet as Jack rinsed my hair and then started to wash my back and shoulders with a vanilla scented body wash. His hand was gentle, but firm, as if he was trying to erase all traces of my incident. I definitely felt that our boundaries had been crossed. In less than twenty four hours, we had went from barely knowing each other to me being naked in this bathtub while he washed my back. This was the most effort I'd ever put into knowing someone while I was somber, or at least normal thinking skills.

"I'll let you finish. I'll be in the living room when you're done." Jack said, showing no hint of expression. He got up and left the bathroom, closing the door until it was opened just a crack.

As soon as I was alone, I felt colder. That only happened with Jack, but I didn't want to think about it. _Maybe the water was just getting cold_. I finally stood back up, letting the water rinse the soap suds off my back. I continued to wash myself, making sure to scrub all the dirt and dried blood away. As I examined my body, I saw several crescent moon-shaped bruises on my breasts, my sides, and my shoulders. I hoped that Jack hadn't noticed them.

Once I felt that I was as clean as I could get without using bleach, I turned off the shower and stepped onto the soft mat by the tub. I took the towel that Jack had left me and used it to soak up the droplets of water on my body. My skin was still damp when I pulled Jack's pajama pants on and carefully slipped into his t-shirt. I scrubbed my hair with the towel until it ceased to drip water and then I let it fall over my shoulder. I avoided the mirror as I finished my tasks in the bathroom, but before I left I brought the white fabric of the shirt to my nose and inhaled. _It smells like him._ The scent was comforting for some reason and it made me feel a little better.

I grabbed my dirty clothes before leaving the bathroom and saw Jack sitting on the couch with his face in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees. He lifted his head as I stopped in front of him.

"Would you mind if I threw these away?" I asked shyly. Jack blinked a couple times, as if he was having to shake away his thoughts, whatever they were.

"Sure." He said, getting up and walking into the kitchen. When he returned, he held a small garbage bag and held it open for me to stuff the clothes inside it. After tying the bag Jack took it outside to the trash can and returned quickly.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

I quickly shook my head. Jack had done enough for me, more than anyone else would. Besides, if I did put any food into my stomach now it would probably just come right back up.

"You need to eat. Come on." The Mercer boy nodded for me to follow him as he walked into another room. Reluctantly, I did as he said and trailed behind him to the kitchen.

There was enough light from the window that there was no need to turn on any additional lighting. I sat at the small table, being careful not to bump into anything or sit down too fast. I heard Jack opening a couple of cabinets, I could barely see the outline of his body in the dark. I saw the brief light from the fridge being opened and then hearing the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl. The next thing I knew, Jack set the bowl down in front of me and sat in the chair beside me. I could see him much better now that he sat in front of the window.

"Eat." He pressed before I could protest. I was feeling that Jack was going a little to far.

"I just asked if I could come in. I didn't asked for a shower or a place to stay." I whispered, stirring the cheerios around with my spoon.

"I know. I'm just trying to help." The boy replied, his voice matching my quiet tone.

"No, you're trying to be nice to white trash."

"Don't say that. You're not trash." Jack said quickly. I didn't take his words seriously, still convinced that he was being polite.

I didn't say another word about the subject and decided to eat a couple of spoonfuls of the cereal to satisfy Jack. I wasn't sure how the milk would react with the alcohol in my stomach, but if it would help change the subject I suppose that it couldn't hurt.

"So, was it just one?" Jack suddenly asks after another moment of awkward silence.

I swallowed, trying to remember. Once I'd nearly blocked out something, I didn't like to bring it back up. It went completely against my ways. _Let's see . . ._

"Five? Or six?" I guessed, half sure of my answer. I noticed that Jack's jaw clenched again, but he seemed to have calmed down a lot since he had stormed out of the bathroom earlier.

"So . . . it happened . . . six times?" He swallowed, finding it difficult to get the words out like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

"No." I shook my head as I took another spoonful and slowly chewed. "The cops showed up before the third could finish." I stopped there, sensing the memories try to flood into my mind.

"Did they not try to help you?" Jack asked. His brows were crumpled together with confusion.

"I ran off." I answered simply, scooping up another cluster of cheerios onto the spoon.

"Why?" The frustration was evident in Jack's voice.

"Because I didn't feel like being arrested, and it wasn't anything that I couldn't handle."

Jack sighed angrily, his blue eyes glaring at me.

"Marilyn, you were raped! You're lucky that you're not laying in a ditch!" His voice had raised slightly above normal volume and his folded arms trembled on the table. Honestly, I didn't feel lucky. I felt like my life was just a testing of my limits and how much it would take before I committed suicide. I'd never admit it to Jack though, not after his previous reaction.

**[Jack's POV]**

I couldn't believe how little Marilyn was effected by what those bastards had done to her. _How could she show little concern for her well being, or even her own life? Did she not think that anyone cared?_ I began to calm myself down, taking a few deep breathes. My eyes wondered over the girl's body that was visible to me. Her eye was swollen and dark from the bruise, her hair was slowly beginning to dry and turn into soft, subtle waves. As I looked at her thin forearms, I noticed several, indented rings on the sides of her wrists. I blinked at them curiously.

"What are those?" I asked, slowly reaching over the table and taking Marilyn's wrist.

Taking a closer look I saw that they were obviously cigarette burns. Some were older and mostly healed, but there were a couple that were still scabbed and rimmed red with infection. Even under the burns were short, straight scars that littered the skin all over her forearm. I felt the frustration building up and intensifying when I didn't hear an answer.

"Did you do this to yourself?" I demanded, looking Marilyn in the eyes. Her gaze dropped to the table as she retracted her arm and folded both of them.

"The burns are from Tom." She muttered quietly.

"Tom?"

"My dad." Marilyn's voice was dry as she said the words.

Although I had my suspicions, I didn't expect them to be true. All those times I saw her, she was wearing long-sleeved shirts, she always seemed to be walking or trying to avoid being at home. Marilyn was being abused. I couldn't handle the idea, it made me sick at my stomach. I was quick to change the subject.

"You need to clean those." I insisted, trying hard to avoid freaking out.

"I'll live." She replied simply.

I was shocked at how easily she could brush off things that would traumatize most. Judging by the burn scars, she'd been abused for a long time and being attacked on top of that. She acted as if nothing was wrong even though deep down I know that it had to affect her. _How could it not?_ I knew what she was going through and I knew that she had to be hurting on the inside, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

I waited until she was finished eating before I brought the bowl back and rinsed it out in the sink and grabbed Mom's small first-aid kit out of one of the cabinets. I took it back to the table with me and took out a couple of band-aids and alcohol packets.

"This isn't necessary." Marilyn whispered.

"It's going to make you sick if you don't take care of them." I said back to her, trying to convince her that all I wanted was to help her.

"Good." She answered smugly.

"Dammit, Marilyn!" I snapped, tired of her hard ass attitude. "Even if you don't care, I do. So could you drop the act and just let me help you?" I didn't know what I was saying until it was too late. I felt like crawling underneath the table and hiding from the embarrassment I'd just caused myself. _Damn, I'm glad that Bobby wasn't here to see how stupid I looked right now. _

Marilyn pursed her lips, her eyes glancing around the kitchen. Finally, she unfolded her arms and held them out for me to medicate them. _Well . . . that wasn't so bad, _I thought sarcastically though I know that it could have went worse.

"You win." The girl commented, eying me with a hint of a glare. I softened my gaze as I looked at her, hoping she'd understand that I wasn't mad at her.

I went to work on her right arm which had the most recent burn marks. I knew that the first part of this would suck because I'd have to scrub the scabs away before I could clean the wounds with alcohol. I took a small, cotton cloth from the first-aid kit and sighed, mentally preparing myself, knowing that I was about to cause Marilyn pain. I poured some peroxide on the cloth before firmly wiping it across the fresh scab.

Marilyn winced and held onto my forearm as I continued to scrub the scab off carefully. I remembered to breathe, my fingers nervously working fast to get it over with. Once the wounds were open again, I took an alcohol pad and gently wiped each burn. Marilyn gripped my arm tighter, making me feel bad for doing this to her. I kept telling myself that it was only going to help her, that made it easier. I finished with putting a band-aid on each of the cigarette burns, leaving Marilyn's arms covered with bandages.

"Thanks." She whispered, taking her arms off the table.

"You're welcome." I answered, shyly looking away from her.

Though I was happy that she let me help her a little, I still wasn't satisfied. I wanted to call the police. Something had to be done with those bastards that raped her, and the same for the monster that was hurting her at home. I knew that if I did anything like that she'd hate me, and that wasn't what I wanted. The best thing I could do was be there for her now and hopefully she'd come around. I knew well-enough that I could do no more than what she allowed me to.

"You need to get some sleep, It's passed four." I stood up and waited for Marilyn to get up and follow me into my room. I hurried to pick up some of my dirty clothes and throw them under my bed before she could see them.

It was almost funny when I thought about it._ In one day, I went from hardly knowing Marilyn Byers to having her in my clothes and standing in my room . . . and about to sleep in my bed._ I knew that it wasn't very funny, given the circumstances, but I still had to fight to contain my giddiness.

"I'll sleep in the floor, unless you want the room to yourself. The couch is pretty comfy." I showed a hint of a smile, trying to make things a little less heavy.

"I don't want to put you out of your own bed." Marilyn began, stepping closer to me and looking up at me though her eyelashes. "But this is going to make us even."

I wasn't sure what she meant, until she brought her arm up and loosely draped it over my shoulder as she stood on her tiptoes and started to softly kiss my neck. Though I was frozen stiff, my body trembled at the touch of her lips. A lump rose in my throat as I tried to swallow. _This is so wrong._ I knew this, but I couldn't move. Marilyn continued to trace my jawline with kisses as her hand slowly went up my shirt, her fingertips barely grazing my stomach. _Jesus . . ._ As much as I'd wanted this and as long as I'd waited for it, I wasn't going to do this to her. She'd been threw enough and I wasn't going to take advantage of her.

"Marilyn." I protested in a whisper and gently brought her hands down to her sides when she tried to lift up my shirt. She looked up at me, her thin brows were crumpled with confusion.

"What?" She asked quietly.

Still holding Marilyn's wrist, I walked over to my bed and sat down and carefully pulled her down next to me. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I told you before, that's not what I want from you. I'm not helping you to get something from you. You've been through some shit tonight and I think you need to rest. I want to help you, but only if you'll let me. Okay?" For once, Marilyn seemed to really think about what I was telling her.

"I don't want the police involved, at all." She said firmly. I wasn't thrilled about her decision, but I nodded and accepted it. She was willing to let me help her, that was a start.

"I can handle that, as long as you promise that you won't go walking around at night by yourself anymore."

Marilyn thought about this for a moment, softly biting her lip.

"Okay, but I'm still not putting you out of your bed." She agreed.

I didn't see that we could do each other any harm in sharing a bed for the night, and I sure as hell wouldn't complain. I nodded and stood up to pull down the sheets, letting Marilyn slip into them first. She moved back as far as she could to the edge, trying to make enough room for both of us to fit into the full-sized bed. Laying down, I felt a little uncomfortable with my pants on, but I was afraid that it would make it too weird. The boney girl rolled onto her side, towards me, and scooted herself up against me and laid her head against my arm.

"Night." She whispered, closing her eyes.

"Night." I smiled at her, trying to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest.

I watched Marilyn fall asleep within a matter of minutes. Once I was sure, I carefully took her hand and gently stroked her thin fingers. Before I closed my own eyes, I made sure that I was still holding her hand. That way, if she tried to leave before I woke up, I'd know it_. _I fell asleep to the soft, angelic sound of Marilyn's relaxed breathing. At least, in her sleep, she had no worries.


End file.
